I think it's time to give the Space Wolves their place in the spotlight, yeah? Gonna wrap this book up quickly, so don't be surprised of the rather sped up succession of updates I'll do. Like honestly, I'm dying to just pour everything into the computer but my fingers just won't type that fast.
Phew! This'll have to do.
"Another Christmas present, so soon OmeganQueen? Oh, you're too kind!"
Yes, absolutely! The readers hunger, and I must deliver! Emperor shoot me dead if I don't!
However, I must bid you to enjoy it while it lasts because I'm going to take a break from Warhammer writing for an indefinite amount of time ( need to write other fics and all that ). With all that said, and pardon the redundant word, read on dear reader!
}!{
The Space Wolves' fortress-monastery, known widely across the Imperium as The Fang and the Aett by its inhabitants, was a massive citadel built atop the tallest mountain of Asaheim. This mountain was known by many names, including the Shoulder of the Allfather, and volda hammarki, the World Spine. The Fang was the home base of the Space Wolves and extended into the surrounding mountain range as well as into orbit, drawing energy from the geothermic source of the planet's molten core.
The complex included huge, ground-based anti-ship orbital defence laser weapons concealed as nearby peaks, docks at the summit for the Space Wolves' Battle Barges and Strike Cruisers, numerous shrines to the Emperor in the guise of the Allfather along the lower slopes, and massive fusion and geothermal reactors deep underground.
Word was received from on high that the reformed Luna Wolves Legion was on its way to Fenris, and instructions from Horus Lupercal were made to gather the Rune Priests on the Fang that they may share their portents on the location of their lost primarch. These instructions were met with a bristling response from the lesser astartes, many of which who have not fought beside the Lupercal on Cadia and felt his call to be presumptuous and arrogant, and so they refused to obey his command.
This, however, did not sit well with their betters and the Fenrisian commanders did the only thing Fenrisian warriors could understand- by fighting.
Indeed, when the Primarch of the Luna Wolves arrived at the harbor of the Fang, he was surprised to see the warriors having at each other from deck to deck. Brawls erupted here and there, for as far as the eye could see. Fists collided with noses, breaking bone and cartilage and loosening teeth from gums. Blood sprinkled the frosted floors of the harbor as the new arrivals looked on in disapproval. Horus, on the other hand, beheld everything with amusement. No one was killed, nor any suffered too great an injury that it would impair their combat capabilities, but the bruises on the transhuman bodies and faces would not disappear for some time.
"Throne of Terra, they're like rabid dogs!" Thavos sneered.
"These are the Sons of Russ, did you expect anything different?" Horus replied, sighing to himself as he stepped off the transporter. "Come, let us search for their-
Horus ducked, interrupted in mid-sentence as a Space Wolf lunged at him with a bloodied fist, driven by an uncontrollable rage that he did not see it was the Primarch he was going for, then missed. Obviously, he realized his mistake too late and was seized by the fervor of battle that he did not care to back down. Horus merely hit him with the back of his hand and tossed him aside, "As I was saying, let us search for their commanders. I'm sure we can make some sense of this mess to get our message through."
"Coooome back here!" The downed marine slurred, still dazed by the Lupercal's blow. "I ain't done with you yet!"
Three of Horus' Honor Guard moved forward, knocking and shoving aside Space Wolves to make way for their gene-sire. "Move! Make way!", they thundered, bashing heads with the back end of their bolters when they passed unheeded. Horus bade them to go easy on the lot, reminding them that they were there to bridge the gap between their legion and the fractured Space Wolves chapters. They would not be spared their share of blows, but none must be impaired from the brawl, he would have need of them in the battles to come.
He later found what he came for within the walls of the Chapter House itself, where the Rune Priests of the Space Wolves had gathered in response to his request. It was a welcome surprise, given the stubborn nature of the Fenrisians that was so abundantly displayed by the lesser spacemarines having at each other outside. They were gathered at a large metal table in the center of a wide, rectangular chamber that was supposed to imitate the holdings of Fenrisian longhouses, something to evoke nostalgia and accommodate the Space Wolves' need for familiarity. The table was a holocron, upon which the entire charted map of the Imperium and its spaces beyond was displayed. After the visions faded, they jotted down all the records deemed necessary for a conclusion. So far, the portents remained as confusing as ever, the only good thing left was that the Lupercal's arrival spurred them ever on to accomplish such a daunting task.
"Greetings, Lord Horus of Terra." Njal Stormcaller, the senior priest and a legendary figure among his peers, greeted the Primarch of the Luna Wolves as he entered the chamber. "I apologize for the mess you've had to wade through. Fekking recruits, haughty jackalwolves the lot of them! Don't worry, their commanders are dealing with their rebellious attitudes well enough as we speak."
"I've noticed." Horus replied, "How can I help?"
"You're our guest, we don't expect you to do anything save for standing aside while we busy ourselves in trying to find our lost gene-sire." Njal said with a shake of the head, "We're close now, so close..."
Thavos grunted, "With respect, my lord, these Rune Priests have had all the time they needed and they've gotten themselves nowhere. I'm afraid our trip was wasted."
"Patience, captain." Horus answered, "Good things come to those who wait. Let the Rune Priests do their work, we'll come back when they've got something." He bid the Rune Priests farewell and exited the building. Outside, the cold bite of the Fenrisian winds upon the Fang whipped the Luna Wolves as soon as they got through the door, scattering frost all over their armor and clogging exposed chinks. The brawls had ceased, for the Space Wolves had expended the last of their strength. They finished by gathering for the mead halls to drink their fill and soothe their boiling tempers in their drinks' cool caress.
Meanwhile,
Fifty-seven standard years to the day after his first attempt to conquer Armageddon, Ghazghkull Thraka led a second Ork WAAAGH! against the planet in 998.M41, unleashing the Third War for Armageddon. Commissar Yarrick and many of the heroes who had fought in defence of the planet before were called to battle again. The conflict ultimately ended in a stalemate, with neither side able to take full control of the world, though the cost in lives and treasure was immense. Although the Third War for Armageddon had ended with the Imperium winning a narrow victory, fighting still continued on the planet. Ghazghkull has left the world behind, pursued by Commissar Yarrick's Imperial Guard forces, accompanied by High Marshal Helbrecht with a full Black Templars Crusade at his back.
But now, spurred onwards by the visions of the ork gods Gork and Mork, Ghazghkull returned to finish what he had started. The Fourth War for Armageddon had begun, similarly to how it did for the past three. Thousands of crudely-shaped kroozas, battered by the the Warp from faulty gellar fields, emerged from the rifts outside the Armageddon Sub-sector. They overran the orbital defenses in mere days, flooding over what was bolstered from the small respite from the last war, and swarmed in for the hapless worlds that lay beyond. They descended from the skies in balls of fire, crashing down upon the still-recovering earth, and established their foothold upon each of the ten worlds of the cluster.
Such a brazen attack should have been expected, but alas, it was not.
The forces of Commissar Yarrick, and of the Black Templars, were too far away to intervene. And so began once more an era of bloodshed, set into motion even further by the involvement of the returned Primarch Roboute Guilliman. Sent from Terra by his Father the Emperor of Mankind, Guilliman came to the fringes of the Imperium to rid the threat of the Orks once and for all- by slaying each and every one of their greatest champions to batter their resolve into dust and drive them clear from the systems of mankind.
They had done this before so many times, most noteworthy was that of the Ullanor Campaign, a war that made the greenskins remember for all time that mankind was a force to be reckoned with. Horus had his chance, now it was his turn.
"Eh?"
The giant looked up, squinted his tiny eyes at the gray skies of Armageddon, and wondered if he was seeing things. It turned out to be more than his imagination, those fiery things weren't unicorns. "Ooh! Pretty colors!" And one was coming right for him.
The Bullgryn's commanding officer knew better and shouted as he ducked for cover, "Run, Gorrest! Run!"
"Ruuh?" O-kay!"
The lumbering oaf made an awkward shuffle as he moved out of the meteor's way, narrowly avoiding the burning debris scattered into the winds as it broke through the world's skies. Upon landing, its inhabitants pushed through the heated shell and bellowed forth their challenge, "WAAAAAGHHHH!" The greenskins made planetfall, literally, and resumed the thousand-year war of attrition waged by their prophet Thraka.
This time, however, the Imperial Guard were stronger than before. Having eradicated the threat the Despoiler posed to Cadia, Ursarkar Creed dispatched thousands if not millions of his veteran soldiers to assist in the many theaters of war that needed Cadia's elite the most, one of them being Armageddon. Among those that arrived via shuttle in the past day, Bone'ead Bullgryn Gorrest Fump and his loyal band of ogryn bulwarks came to bolster the beleaguered ranks of Armageddon. It was a paradise for the nitwitted giants, for the fields and streets of the ruined cities that became the battleground were littered with tank corpses. Much like the orks who saw these as a rich bounty of valuable scrap, the giants saw an opportunity to upgrade their standard-issue armaments and gear with the discarded parts of these skeletons.
Gorrest was just in the middle of issuing orders from 'up high' to his fellow ogryns when the attack of the orks happened, an event that brought even more excitement to the lumbering brutes, for their bones were itching for a good fight.
"Ogryns! This way!" Gorrest roared, raising his ceramite buckler to block the spray of faulty ork bullets that came streaking across the narrow street. More greenskins arrived from the heavy stone and steel rain, and the flood grew. The guardsmen, had they been from elsewhere, would've broken formation and turned tail at the sight of such a menace- but not the people of Armageddon.
Like Cadia, this was their home- theirs! No one, not a single one of those filthy xenos or heretics will take it from them as long as a single man is left standing. The planet will break before the guard will!
"Ogryns! Shield-wall!" Gorrest Fump cried, noticing that the ensuing hailstorm eradicated his guardsmen comrades' cover. At his command, the bulwarks formed up their Slabshields together like a palisade of thick steel. The orks saw this and increased the pace of their charge even further. They cared little for their own lives as they were cut down by lasgun fire, and slammed facefirst into the frey with their sharpened choppaz outstretched. The usual tactic was seen everywhere. Slugga boyz would soak up the guardsmen's fire, and then the Nobz would follow up with another devastating charge.
If that didn't work, a couple of Speedfreekz would ram into the formation with a pak'fulo'bombz to further sow mayhem into the puny humies.
This assault kept on and on, and on...until the guardsmen manpower would suffer to the point that their commanders would order the remaining lot to withdraw slowly into the safety of a less battered street. Inch by inch, they had to give ground, then the enraged ogryns would disobey orders and stubbornly remain where they were.
"Gorrest, you idiot! I said fall back!"
"Wut wuz dat, suh?" Gorrest grunted back, "Speak up! I'z can't hear yuh from all da noize!"
The other ogryns just laughed and promptly went back to bashing and shooting. When their Ripper guns would run out of ammunition from ceaseless hours of nonstop firing, they would use these weapons as makeshift clubs and would hammer away at nearby greenskins when the line would be broken. Many thought that the ogryns were purposely disobeying due to their selfless desire to give their lives for the guardsmen to retreat in safety, but the truth was rarely so.
Gorrest was simply enjoying the moments of battle, as well as his fellow ogryns, that they didn't want it to end. Nothing could compare to the sharp recoil of their gargantuan weapons or the loud staccato bursts of their Ripper guns. Nothing but death could stop them at this point, and so their commanding officer promptly just gave up trying and beat a hasty retreat into the next district.
One by one, the ogryns fell to the green tide, until only the Bone'ead himself was left to hold the line. "Rahuhhuhhuh!" Gorrest grinned, his throat rumbling with that awkward, childish laugh.
But then, just as his end neared its realization, the skies above the ruined city lit up once more. Descending upon clouds of fire, the Ultramarines drop-pods slammed down upon the amassed orks like thunderhead bombardments. Immediately after, the spacemarines burst free from their doors and leaped into the fray to stem the growing tide before it became unstoppable. Their guns reduced the ork masses from a raging torrent to a mere trickle. The momentum was lost, and the orks fell back to regroup.
Gorrest was found at the bottom of the pile of dead ork bodies, and when his rescuers came to free him, he accidentally knocked a spacemarine neophyte out with a single punch from his bloodied hand!
Realizing quicker than the average ogryn of his mistake, he apologized at gun-point and explained himself. "Ruuuuhhhh...So sorry, suhz. I'z did not mean ta hit 'im, thought he wuz a baddie. I'm Bone'ead Gorrest Fump of da Impuriel Gard 233rd Reg'munt."
"Brilliant, another abhuman." The Ultramarine sergeant remarked in disgust, "Waste this filth."
"Hold your fire!" Roboute Guilliman thundered, having arrived with the commanders of the Chapter to inspect the damage wrought by the invasion force. The spacemarines knelt from where they stood as the livid Primarch continued, "There will be plenty of our enemies to kill this day, and I will not tolerate executions absent reason!"
"Apologies, my Primarch." The sergeant replied.
"Report!"
"The walls of this city have been breached, my lord. Scores of Imperial Guardsmen, collateral, and orks have clogged the streets to make it impossible for vehicles to cut through. Our Rhinos are beginning to push them out to clear the path as we speak!"
Roboute nodded. His work here would be long and hard, an expected dilemma only he was fit to solve for the Imperium. "Send the bulk of our fighting force to bolster the Imperial Guard until reinforcements arrive. Commissar Yarrick and the Black Templars are being held up in orbit at the moment, having met the fleets of the tyrant Ghazghkull in space. Our main objective is to secure the gates and retake the outlaying districts so that supplies would resume their flow. Carry on."
"At once, my lord."
"And as for you." Roboute Guilliman turned to Gorrest Fump, "I want you to run back and report to your superiors with my message. Armageddon will stand as Cadia did, you are not alone."
"Yes suh!" The ogryn saluted and turned heel to walk the long road back to base. He stopped, realizing he was heading towards the ork encampment and changed direction. "Uhhh...that way!"
Roboute shook his head at this and went his own way.
"Ah, if isn't the Wolf of Terra!" A chorus of cheers welcomed Horus Lupercal and his captains as they entered the drinking den.
"Slayer of Abaddon, this one!" The place was not reserved for neophytes, only the battle-hardened, grizzled war veterans drank and dined in that longhouse. Many of them were gathered from all corners of the Imperium to hear the words of the Rune Priests, many of them were eager to begin their own odysseys into the Eye to search for their missing Primarch.
"Horus Lupercal!" The Great Wolf Lord Logan Grimnar roared, "Close the door! You're bringing in the cold with you!" To have the Hero of Cadia in their presence was a great honor, and one that the Space Wolves took better than the ones that brawled on the Fang's decks earlier.
"What are we doing here?" Thavos grumbled.
"Gathering allies the easiest way possible." Graves replied. The marksman captain took off his helm and allowed the warmth of the roaring fire pit in the middle of the squared formation of longtables to bathe his cold skin. The winds of Fenris had a way to bypass the heating units in his armor, and he didn't like that one bit. "Knock that attitude off, you walk among fellow brutes."
"Maintain a respectable silence." Horus ordered sternly, "Only I shall speak this night, understood?"
"Behold, brothers, the Redeemed Primarch! Look upon this model of selflessness, for even through the hatred and doubt of the masses he had reforged his honor and washed away the sins of the Heresy!" Grimnar announced sincerely, offering a large goblet for the Primarch to partake of. "Accept this goblet, I pray, and know that you stand as a friend of the Sons of Russ!"
"I thank you for this, and I am humbled by your acceptance." Horus smiled as he took the goblet away from the Great Wolf's grasp. "Yet that battle for Cadia was not won by mine hand alone. You all were there, we were all heroes that day. We all share the glory of Abaddon's defeat."
"Bah!" Logan Grimnar waved his hand, and the Space Wolves swayed with laughter. "Humility has no place in this longhouse! Boast of your exploits, I implore you, that the Allfather may revel in your stories as we!"
"Hear hear!"
}!{